137: Chapter 137 The Phoenix Remains Silent

"You really expect a Phoenix to keep a secret for you?"

Peter was granted ten seconds of speaking time, and his first sentence was shrill and piercing. He gripped the bars of the cage, forehead pressed against the space wall, his whole body trembling.

Allen stood in the water of the Chamber of Secrets, sealing the diary fragments into a stone tube. He didn't even raise his head when he heard Peter's voice.

"Nine seconds."

Peter immediately shut his mouth, then couldn't help but squeeze out one more sentence: "Dumbledore will ask it! He's raised Fawkes for decades! It will transmit its emotions to him!"

"Six seconds."

"You'll be exposed!"

"Two seconds."

Peter covered his mouth with both hands.

The silencing spell fell back into place. His face pressed against the cage, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound could come out.

Allen stored the stone tube in the outer layer of his Portable Space. Beside the ebony box, the Void swam over, its tail tip pressing down on the edge of the stone tube, its silver vertical pupils staring at the black ink inside the seal.

The diary remains were still twitching.

Its core had been destroyed, but the Horcrux fragments still carried contamination. Putting it near the cracked pocket watch was too dangerous, and putting it near Peter was also dangerous. Allen opened three layers of Spatial Thin Layer separately and isolated the stone tube in a corner.

[Horcrux remains pollution level is high. Suggest staying away from time relics.]

"I'm doing that."

[Phoenix witness risk is high.]

"That's why I didn't touch it."

[Fawkes possesses ancient flame properties, Spatial Memory Charm is ineffective.]

"Repetition is meaningless."

The family crest was silent for a moment.

[The Principal might determine the presence of a third party through emotional regression.]

Allen dropped the third knut into the water, and silver ripples immediately spread across the surface. The Basilisk's death residue, Harry's magic, the Phoenix's flames, and the Dark Arts left behind after Tom dissipated were all churned together.

"Let him determine it."

[Target is to hide?]

"The goal is that he can't find me."

The echo of Fawkes' cry came from the end of the Chamber of Secrets. It had already taken Harry and Ginny up, but its sound remained in the pipes, like a line that hadn't been cut clean.

Allen stopped moving.

"It hasn't gone far."

The Void looked up inside the Portable Space, its tail tip tapping on the temporary parchment labeled "Fawkes."

Allen raised his wand, and the Spatial Thin Layer unfolded. He walked along the side wall of the Chamber of Secrets to below the main shaft and looked up at the dark pipe. His silver perception followed the damp stone wall upward, just in time to capture a wisp of Phoenix flame pausing in the middle section.

Fawkes was waiting.

After sending Harry and the others up, it had descended back to the middle of the pipe and stopped there, neither returning to the Headmasters Office nor leaving the Castle.

"Troublesome."

Allen lifted his foot, and the water ripples were shifted to the other side of the Basilisk's corpse. No footprints were left behind.

He didn't follow.

A Phoenix is harder to deal with than a portrait. Portraits are afraid of being dismantled, ghosts are afraid of being questioned, and students are afraid of punishment. Fawkes had none of these weaknesses. It only acknowledged Dumbledore, and only acknowledged life, loyalty, danger, and choice.

Allen hated things that couldn't be quantified.

"You can hear me."

A clear cry came from above the pipe.

Allen looked up: "Then that saves trouble. I saved your master's students; that's enough."

Fawkes didn't respond immediately.

Allen continued: "Harry is alive. Ginny is alive. The Basilisk is dead. The diary is destroyed. Dumbledore will reset things. Hogwarts can still hold classes."

The firelight in the pipe brightened slightly.

"If you tell him the complete picture, he will come looking for me."

Fawkes' cry lowered a bit.

"If he comes for me, I will clean up more traces. Snape, portraits, ghosts, students—I will cut all the threads that can move. It will be uglier then."

The Phoenix fire flickered.

Allen leaned against the stone wall, his face paler. Having continuously overwritten the memories of Ginny and Harry, his body was already urging him to sleep. But he couldn't sleep yet.

"Don't look at me with that gaze. You also hid the Sorting Hat inside and let Harry pull out the sword. You chose him, I chose to hide."

Fawkes flew down a section.

The golden-red figure landed on the edge of the pipe opening, about ten meters from Allen. It didn't attack, just stood in the shadows, its eyes clear.

Allen met its gaze.

The sound of water in the Chamber of Secrets grew louder. The Basilisk's corpse lay in the middle like a dead dividing line.

"I won't hurt Harry."

Fawkes chirped once.

"As long as he doesn't run into me."

Another chirp.

"Ginny too. The Weasley Family's debt is one thing, but a child shouldn't die in Lucius's old belongings."

Fawkes' feathers tucked in slightly.

Allen judged that this sentence was effective.

The Phoenix cared about the students' lives. It might not care if Allen hid Spatial Magic, nor might it care about the Potter branch's key position. It cared about the result.

The result was negotiable.

Allen took out the Basilisk fang stone tube and placed it in his palm: "I will leave evidence. The Lucius mark, the diary remains, the Basilisk fang. For Dumbledore to use to pursue the Malfoy Family."

Fawkes tilted its head.

"But my name cannot be in the evidence."

The Phoenix flapped its wings, and sparks fell onto the water surface, extinguishing instantly.

Allen looked at it: "You don't lie. But you don't have to speak, either."

This time, Fawkes was quiet for a long time.

Inside the Portable Space, Peter pressed his face against the cage, his eyes almost splitting. The Void swam over and flicked the cage with its tail. Peter immediately shrank into a corner.

The family crest provided a prompt: [Phoenix emotional fluctuation reduced. Hostility decreased. Still scrutinizing.]

"Enough."

Fawkes jumped down from the side of the pipe and landed beside the Basilisk's corpse. It looked down at the Basilisk's empty eye sockets, then at the fang stone tube in Allen's hand.

Allen put the stone tube away: "I won't touch the eyes."

Fawkes chirped.

"And I won't take the blood."

Fawkes chirped again.

"The scales have already been taken."

The Phoenix stared at him.

Allen added: "A small amount."

Fawkes walked to the spot where Harry had just stood and touched the water surface with its beak. The remnant of Harry's magic in the water was gently burned away by the flames, as if helping him cover up certain risks.

Allen saw this scene, his gaze pausing for half a second.

"You also clean up traces."

Fawkes ignored him.

It spread its wings and flew towards the place where Ginny had been lying, sweeping over the life-force extraction residue with its flames. The black marks left by Tom were burned thin by the Phoenix fire.

Allen understood.

Fawkes didn't want too many traces of Dark Arts left on Ginny. Dumbledore would check, Snape would check, and the Ministry of Magic might also intervene. If Ginny were identified as an active participant, the Weasley Family would be dragged into the mud.

The Phoenix was protecting the students.

Allen whispered: "Your master's bird is easier to talk to than him."

Fawkes turned its head sharply.

Allen fell silent.

The water surface was quiet.

A moment later, Ron's shout came from above the pipe, along with the hurried footsteps of Professor McGonagall. Fawkes looked up, and firelight shone from between its feathers.

It was leaving.

Allen looked at it: "Only transmit emotions. Fear, Basilisk, diary, Harry, Ginny. Don't transmit me."

Fawkes glanced at him.

Allen added: "Silver light is okay."

The Phoenix chirped, firelight curled up, and it flew up along the main shaft.

There was no promise in this chirp, nor was there a refusal.

Allen stood in the water, waiting until the firelight was completely gone before raising his wand.

"Start clearing the scene."

Twelve knuts floated up from the water simultaneously. The floor of the Chamber of Secrets, beside the Basilisk's corpse, at the feet of the Salazar statue, and the positions where Harry and Ginny had stayed—all the spatial coordinates touched by Allen began to fold.

He dismantled his own traces.

A part was stuffed into the shockwave of the Basilisk's struggle.

A part was stuffed into the magic reflux brought by the Phoenix flames.

A part was stuffed into the turbulence caused by the rebound of Gilderoy Lockhart's Memory Charm.

There was one last part left, attached to the silver thread left by the memory overwrite on Ginny. Allen frowned, raised his hand to pull out that silver thread, crumpled it into a ball, and pressed it into the black ink of the diary remains.

"Silver light helped destroy the diary."

This was the version Harry and Ginny could tell.

Silver light could exist.

Allen could not.

Inside the Portable Space, the family crest gave a report: [Main traces within the Chamber of Secrets have been shifted. Residue: Low level spatial fluctuation, low level Potter bloodline key response, high level Phoenix flame.]

"Suppress the bloodline response."

[Can be shifted to the monitoring certificate of the Hogwarts eastern waterway.]

"Shift it."

The golden pattern on the north side contracted, as if twisted tight by a hand. Allen felt a tightness in his chest, and the taste of blood rose in his throat. He raised his hand to press against the stone wall, forcibly suppressing the sleepiness.

"Can't sleep yet."

Above the pipe, Professor McGonagall had already helped Ginny leave. Snape's footsteps stopped at the entrance to the Girls Lavatory, his voice very low.

"Potter, you had better provide an explanation that can last until tomorrow."

Harry's voice came down, filled with tension and exhaustion.

"It was Tom Riddle."

Allen heard this sentence, and his hand stopped moving for a moment.

"Still knows how to talk."

Ron shouted from above: "And the diary! A broken diary that could write! It harmed Ginny!"

Snape said coldly: "Shut up, Weasley."

Gilderoy Lockhart interjected vaguely: "I think this will be a wonderful memoir, the title could be 'Me and the Pipes'."

Ron was on the verge of breakdown: "Who let him talk still?"

Allen raised his wand, and taking advantage of this chaos, he retrieved the last knut from beneath the Basilisk's corpse.

Fawkes created the exit.

Harry created the narrative.

Gilderoy Lockhart created the noise.

Very good.

Allen walked toward the collapsed passage. He didn't take the pipe Harry had taken. That path would be checked by the Professors; it was too dirty.

In the stone wall of the Chamber of Secrets, the Potter branch key position was still responding. The ancient barrier was like a sleeping archive, having already confirmed he had been here.

"If I can't delete it, I'll mess it up."

He pressed his hand against the wall, and a spatial thin crack opened.

Behind the wall was the old Hogwarts waterway interlining, narrow, damp, and full of abandoned magic lines. Ordinary students couldn't get in, and Professors didn't check it often.

Allen slid in sideways.

The Chamber of Secrets closed behind him.